


Experiment #9909

by Charlie_The_Damned



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Forced Feminization, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_The_Damned/pseuds/Charlie_The_Damned
Summary: The Groom has taken it upon himself to pursue Waylon, too gone to notice the man's obvious reluctance at being his bride. While hiding, Waylon comes in contact with an unknown experimental chemical. But when being chased by a psycho, side effects were the least of his worries. Or so Waylon had thought.
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park
Comments: 8
Kudos: 455





	1. Chapter 1

Waylon slunk through the darkness, both trying to listen for any patients that might be lurking and trying not the be heard himself. Though luckily, things seemed to have calmed down. At least for the moment. Mount Massive was an enormous maze that Waylon Park was trapped in, like a pitiful lab rat. The only way out was to go further in, and around every corner was a fresh hell waiting for him.

He needed to find a way out before the insanity of the place began to break him, had to get back to Lisa, and his boys. A picture of her rose in his memory; flowing chestnut hair, that sweet smile playing on her lips. Her angelic image vanished at the sight of deep blue eyes that were definitely not Lisa's. 

A startled gasp tore from Waylon's throat as he flinched back, nearly stumbling over his own feet. The man before him towered over Waylon by at least a foot, body built stronger too. There was no way he would be able to fight him off, if it came to that. "Darling." The man spoke, his sweet tone catching Waylon off guard. It had a happy, musical quality. As if this man were greeting the love of his life. The madness dancing in the man's bloodshot eyes was unsettling, such a stark contrast with his voice. Waylon was frozen in his spot, unable to do anything but stare at the man before him in horror. His chapped lips were pulled into a cheshire cat grin, and Waylon knew in that moment that he was the mouse. It was enough to make the blood in his veins run cold, even before he noticed the way the man was looking at him. 

Longing, adoration. Tainted with madness. Before Waylon could react, the man disappeared into the darkness. Waylon fumbled back from the doors as if he'd been shocked, wide eyes still gazing through the windows for any sign of him in the shadows. Retreating back into the room, he quickly looked for another way out. In his search he noticed the subtle shine of a battery, and plucked it off the table just as he heard footsteps. Then he heard man's voice, "Did I frighten you? I'm awefully sorry, I didn't mean to." 

Close. Too close. And from the footsteps, it sounded like he was getting closer. Waylon dropped to the ground and shuffled underneath the table, pulling his knees into his chest. He did his best to calm his breathing, but his heart pounded away so fiercely that he feared the man could hear it. The other patient's words came back to him in a rush. 'Give him to Gluskin. A gift for the Groom. Here comes your bride, Mr.Gluskin.' The last one said as he hurried down the stairs. A chill ran down Waylon's spine. Gluskin, that was the man's name. 

And Waylon had unknowingly wondered right into his territory. He reached up to cover his mouth with a shaky hand, looking through the camcorder. Waylon could faintly hear him singing over the beating of his own heart. "When I was a boy my mother often said to me, get married, son and see how happy you will be." The Groom stepped into view, a mere few feet from where Waylon was hiding. Gluskin stopped singing, the room suddenly as dead silent as a mausoleum. The mad man took a step closer, and Waylon could feel his stomach drop. "Let me fill you up." The words left Waylon feeling dirty and exposed. He felt like Gluskin was running his hands over his naked body beneath his jumpsuit.

His hands trembled, and it was a struggled not to drop the camera. Gluskin stood there for a moment, and then turned away. Carrying on with his song as if nothing had ever happened. The camcorder began beeping, its battery needing to be replaced. Oh god, oh god, not now. Gluskin was bound to hear him. Waylon scrambled to pull a battery from his pocket, replacing it as quickly and quietly as he could. Battery nearly slipping from his fingers multiple times before he finally managed. 

When the beeping stopped, Waylon could hear Gluskin's voice and echoing footsteps growing quiet as he walked away. Waylon let out a shaky breath, letting the hand drop from his mouth. With the imminent threat of being caught by the Groom gone, the fear that twisted in Waylon's guts eased slightly. 

He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, let his heart rate return to a somewhat normal level. It was then he noticed that something wet had soaked through his jumpsuit. The liquid made the fabric cling to him, the cool sensation against his skin made Waylon curl his lip in disgust. No doubt he had been unlucky enough to sit in a pool of blood. 

When he moved to get out from under the table, he hit something with his foot. The sound of the thing skittering across the floor reverberated in his ears. It glinted in the moonlight where it came to rest, Waylon reached over to pick it up. Turning it over in his hand he found it was a metal canister, the only markings on it was a faded label reading #9909.

The can oozed steadily, and Waylon set it asside before wiping his hand off on his jumpsuit. Examining the floor, he found a small puddle where the can had been. So it wasn't blood he was sitting in after all. Though, maybe it would be better if it was. The people at Mount Massive had been doing some fucked up things to their patients, horrible experiments. There was no telling what the hell #9909 was, or what it did. Of course, Waylon had bigger problems than that at the moment. 

He crawled out from under the table and stood. The floor seemed to shift beneath him, body swaying as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. Then it was gone just as quickly as it came, leaving Waylon with a small feeling of whiplash at the sudden shift. He chalked it all up to standing up too quickly, and shook it off. He had to get out of this place. Waylon went through the rooms, keeping an eye out for batteries or the demented Groom.

Waylon pulled at the collar of his jumpsuit, feeling sweat begin to bead on his forehead. The asylum seemed to be getting hot, like the place was literally sinking into hell. He wiped his brow before turning, entering a lonely hallway and stopping dead in his tracks. Infront of him was a mannequin, wearing what appeared to be a crudely stitched wedding dress. Though, it wasn't as grotesque as Waylon would have thought, being made in a place like this. His eyes drifted from the dress to the wall beside it, where someone had written in blood. In large, neat lettering LOVE MAKES A HOUSE A HOME. 

The Groom's handy work, it had to be. Shivering, Waylon thanked god that the madman hadn't caught him. The bloody words seemed to blur and swirl before his eyes, and he blinked. Trying to clear his vision. 

The spot on his lower back where the mystery liquid had soaked through to his skin felt oddly sensitive, along with the hand that had held the leaking canister. Waylon's vision cleared and blurred, again and again, making him stumble down the hallway. He somehow managed not to crash into anything and alert the Groom that his 'bride' was nearby. He was about halfway down the hallway when he heard the footsteps. Waylon uttered a silent prayer that Gluskin would pass by the entrance of the hallway, that he wouldn't notice him. 

"There you are, darling." The man called out joyously. "Fuck." Waylon cursed before breaking into a sprint. He almost tripped, fell against the walls a few times as his vision still swam. 

The Groom was catching up to him, the booming footsteps growing louder in Waylon's ears. He swore he could feel the Groom breathing down his neck. Waylon ripped open a door and fled into the room, nearly tripping over a box on the way in. His sight cleared, allowing him to see the room before him. It was a large, open space, making it easy for Waylon to run through. He hurried past desks topped with old sewing machines, dodging a couple mannequins. 

The door at the end of the room was blocked, and Waylon cursed. He braced himself against the side of the blockade, pushing with all the strength he could muster. But in his current state, he wasn't able to push it more than a foot. He had spent the whole night running from one psycho or another, had fallen numerous occasions and was still hurting from the beating he had recieved before being forcefully institutionalized. Waylon's whole body was aching and sore, and so goddamn tired. 

Tears welled up in his eyes as the hopelessness of the situation hit him. There was no getting out of this hell, he was too tired and weak. Waylon hissed as a sharp pain burst through his skull, his eyes screwing shut. His ears began ringing, so loud he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. The pain in his head drove Waylon to his knees, camera sent clattering to the floor as he reached up to cover his ears. 

When the pain receded, he was left with a dull throbbing in his temples. His body feeling more drained than before. Though he no longer felt as if his head was about to explode, a thick fog had settled in his mind. What. . . what was he doing here? 

He glanced around the room, trying to remember. He had been running from something, he had been trying to . . trying to. . Waylon couldn't remember.   
Every time he came close to grasping onto a thought, it vanished like a mirage. Leaving him even more lost. All Waylon knew now was that he was tired. So tired. He curled up on his side, using some balled up cloth he found on the floor beside him as a pillow.

The gentle light of the moon was soothing as Waylon's eyes fluttered shut. Sleep claimed him quickly, so fast he didn't even notice the footsteps.  
_______________  
He woke to the feeling of being gently rocked. Waylon groaned in confusion, only to be hushed. "There now darling, everything is alright." Waylon's body had grown so cold that he had began to tremble. The person's words didn't register, as heat seemed to wrap around him. Waylon nuzzled against the warmth, vibrations coursing through his body as the person chuckled. In his mind the deep pitch quickly softened to a feminine giggle. His eyelids felt glued shut, but he managed to force them open. 

His wife, his beautiful Lisa was looking down at him. He felt his lips pull into a tired smile, as he reached up to cup her face. Waylon could feel tears come to his eyes, "It's you, oh god it's really you." He choked, "I missed you so much. I-I love you so much." Lisa's lips pulled into a grin that looked. . off, somehow. It didn't matter, he missed her too much to care. Waylon sat up, his hand sliding down from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Eyes fluttering shut.

And it felt. Wrong. Her lips weren't soft as they usually were, they were dry. Her kiss was rough, and demanding, as she forced her tongue passed his lips. Waylon gasped, trying to pull away, but Lisa's hands slid up his back. Keeping him in place. This. .this wasn't right. Waylon pushed at her chest, trying to ease away. She seemed stronger than he remembered. When she finally broke away, Waylon took in a few deep breath, feeling lightheaded. 

He tried to look at her, take comfort in the sight of her but her face was hidden by shadows. A sudden unease settled in him. "Easy honey," he laughed softly but it sounded strained, "what's gotten into you?" 

"I'm sorry darling," Waylon's whole body tensed, that was not Lisa's voice, "You know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman." He should have noticed sooner, the big, strong arms wrapped around him. Large hands pawing at his back. The bulge right beneath his ass. Waylon scrambled back, using more force than before to try to get out of the man's grasp, hyperventilating. Gluskin cooed softly to him, rubbing his hands along his back in a way ment to calm him. "Let go-let me go."

"No need to act shy." Gluskin said, making his way to his feet. Lifting Waylon with him like it was nothing. Then he carried Waylon away, off to a new and terrifying hell. His eyes darted around frantically, looking for salvation. Anything that could save him. There was nothing. No hope at this point. The Groom had caught him, and Waylon was out of strength and out of energy. He was never going to make it home. Park looked up at his capture, to find the man already gazing down at him with a tender expression. He averted his eyes quickly. 

In the distance there was a crash, followed by a deranged shout. Waylon curled in on himself, clutching to Eddie's dress shirt. "Everything will be fine darling, I've got you." Waylon could feel himself nodding off, but he fought to stay awake. He couldn't allow himself to fall asleep in the arms of a mad man, there was no telling the kind of horrors he would wake up to. 

In the end Waylon lost the battle, and the groom hummed happily as he carried his new bride fast asleep in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon learns just what experiment #9909 does to its test subjects.

"Wake up darling," the words were whispered in Waylon's ear softly, hot breath fanning over him. He opened his eyes and was met by the sight of the Groom looming over him. He blinked, hoping that this was some sort of hallucination. But the vision of Gluskin, sitting on the bed beside him didn't fade. Didn't so much as flicker. An involuntary whimper escaped Waylon's mouth, and the man smirked. "I haven't even touched you yet, and already you're making such sweet sounds for me."

Panic shot through Waylon like a bullet, he had thought the Groom had wanted to mutilate him like the others. And Waylon knew that dying was always a possibility in a place like this, but he hadn't even considered. . . 

"I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you would make a beautiful bride." Gluskin said, reaching out to touch his face. Waylon shuffled back as far as he could, until his back was pressed against the cold, cement wall. The chill burned at his bare skin, and it was only then that Waylon realized that he was no longer in his jumpsuit. On him was the handmade wedding dress, stitched together by the Groom himself. It didn't fit very well, and left him far more exposed than he was comfortable when in Gluskin's presence. 

The man frowned and caught Waylon's legs, making him gasp before pulling him back. Gluskin then moved to where he was kneeling on the bed, with Waylon's legs on either side of him. Hands were on him now, trailing up his legs to his exposed thighs. "You have such lovely curves." Gluskin said, carassing him in slow circles. Oh god, oh god this couldn't be happening. This was just some horrible fever dream. But the hands pawing at him felt too real, the hunger in Gluskin's eyes too twisted and sickening to be something Waylon's mind could conjure up.

Waylon pulled the skirt of the dress down in an attempt to cover himself, to try and stop the Groom's hands from traveling even further up. "Don't touch me," Gluskin's hand crept up the skirt, and was soon cupping an ass cheek. "Stop! Pl-please, stop!" Waylon cried out, growing more desperate. The Groom knead the soft globe, and easily brushed aside Waylon's trembling hands so he could hike up the wedding dress. Leaving Waylon exposed before him. Park threw his head to the side, he couldn't look into Gluskin's eyes anymore. 

Waylon cringed at the feeling of fingertips grazing his cock. "It's a bit. . . vulgar. But I think I can forgive you this one imperfection." The weight on the bed stifted as Eddie moved, and Waylon held his breath. The Groom kissed along his thigh, and Waylon started panting. A sudden heat came over him, the places the Gluskin touched felt the worst. He felt even hotter there, more sensitive. Gluskin bit his inner thigh, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

The feeling cut right through Waylon's core. And his body began to tremble as Gluskin turned his attention to the other thigh, painting it with just as many love bites. Waylon felt a whine crawl up his throat but refused to give it voice. 

The breath was knocked from Park's lungs as he was suddenly flipped over, face pressed into a pillow. His legs were spread open, the Groom slotting himself between them. 

He carassed Waylon's ass, thumb dipping between his cheeks to rub against his hole. "A nice, warm place to welcome my seed." He knew he should be disgusted by the man's touch, but the hard on pinned between Waylon's abdomen and the cot made it impossible to deny how he truly felt. His whole body ached for the Groom's touch. Something warm and wet pressed against his hole, and Waylon clutched at the sheets as he was overwhelmed by sensations. Gluskin's tongue pushed in, and Waylon's mind malfunctioned, the whine he had tried so hard to hold back falling from his lips. 

It shouldn't feel this good. Waylon's hips jerked as Gluskin licked deeper, he couldn't control himself as he began to grind into the cot beneath him. Something forced its way into him beside Gluskin's tongue, and Waylon shouted out in shock. Moans came in a steady stream, along with other desperate sounds. The Groom added another finger, fucking him with them, scissoring him open. Waylon rocked back onto Gluskin's fingers, wanting more. And hating himself for it. The heat that had consumed him had pooled deep in the pit of his belly, and it was making him ache. 

He felt so empty, even when Gluskin added a third finger. "Please, please, please." Waylon whined, the feeling becoming unbearable. The need coursing through him, driving him to act like a-"Whore," Gluskin hissed, "You needy little slut." Then he was pulling out his fingers and flipping Waylon over again. 

Waylon spread his legs, urging the man to take him. Gluskin made a sound close to a growl before working his slacks and boxers down his hips, hard cock springing free. It was far bigger than Waylon's own, thicker. Precum drooled from the head as Gluskin drew closer. Waylon wrapped his legs around him, bare thighs rubbing against the man's hips. He shivered at the feeling of Gluskin's cock pressing against his opening. 

Waylon's back arched when he finally pushed in, head popping passed the tight ring of muscles. Gluskin groaned, sinking in inch after inch. Waylon cried out, the cock he was being impaled on was far larger than a few fingers. The Groom didn't give him a chance to catch his breath before he was pulling out, only to slam back in again. Pleasure shot through Waylon's whole body as the man nailed his prostate head on. Gluskin would pull out slowly, before driving back in full force. God it felt good. It wasn't enough.

The first few thrusts had calmed the heat for a while, but now it was coming back full force. Waylon needed more. Something possessed him, and suddenly he had flipped them both. 

Gluskin looked up at him in bewilderment from where he now lied on the bed. That look quickly changed to a smirk when Waylon let out a wanton sound. From this position, Gluskin sunk even deeper into him. He started to bounce in the man’s lap, driven by the need to cum. The man grasped at Waylon’s hips, and fucked up into him. “Oh fuck,” Waylon cried out, each thrust pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Gluskin sat up, arms wrapping around Waylon. “You take me so well, darling.” He muttered into his ear, before kissing along his neck. 

Waylon’s head fell to the side to give him more access. He was so lost in the feelings that overcame his body he barely noticed the obscene things the Groom was saying. He caught some of it though, a broken mantra of ‘good girl’ and ‘dirty whore’. Waylon clutched at the back of the man’s vest, hips stuttering as he came, a shattered sound leaving him as his mind too shattered. A gravelly moan tore through the Groom as his hold tightened on his bride. Waylon was filled with a different heat as the man hit his peak. 

He collapsed in Gluskin’s hold, tired but satisfied. In the blissful afterglow he found himself falling asleep in the arms of a madman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than I would have liked to write this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it. ;)


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